Plaid & Will Dutta / Leafcutter John & Heritage Orchestra

Ahhhh, Cafe Oto - favoured home of beardstrokers and muso geeks. The Blank Canvas guys managed a bit of a coup getting a name like Plaid in such a small venue. Sadly, they chose an evening where the overland trains to Dalston weren't running, meaning a bus from Aldgate, meaning a delay. I got there just in time to get pissed off at a queue jumper and take my seat (yep, seat - we're a classy bunch) before the evening started.

Will Dutta started off with a brief rundown of the evening's programme before a couple of solo piano pieces (he did say who, but I didn't note it down - Schubert and Liszt?). I didn't know the pieces, but he The man can obviously play, but for some reason when I hear the piano I expect it to be faultless, and there were a few bum notes and dodgy slurs. That said, it's hard to criticize someone playing at that level too much. A couple of tracks from what sounded like the new Plaid album then filled in while the four members of the Heritage Orchestra set up in front of a set of screens, and the wiry indie-boy frame of Leafcutter John got ready to introduce everyone.

And then his phone rang.

"Hello?... Oh, Hi Maria ... yeah, i'm okay ... yeah, I'm just about to go on"

This drew a small chuckle from the assembled throng.

"Yeah, I should go ... okay ... yeah, I'll see you soon"

[insert perfect timed comedy pause]

"Yes, you're on the guest list."

The screens were there for a reason - they showed a plain black background with lines like a very wide music notation - 5 horiztonal, and one vertical at the far left. As we watched, two thin coloured bars drifted in from the right of the screen, Tron-style. As they met the vertical bar, the Baritone Sax and Violin burst into life, but with no defined note, the result was a dissonant moan. Within a few seconds it was clear how the score was working - each colour coressponded to a different instrument, with a 'Cello and I think a Shamisen alongside the other two, all accompanied by John on what appeared to be a toy accordian. Pitch was conveyed by how high the line was, while width conveyed volume. After a few seconds, we saw a huge incline appear onscreen, and another chuckle went through the audience; how would the players traverse this obstacle? Over the next few minutes, we saw alternating blocks of colour, gentle gradients of shading, patterns, sharp slashes and stabs - at times it felt like watching the 100m sprint being done by gymnasts and reimagined by Kandinsky. To say the result was melodic, pretty, or easy to listen to would be a lie, but it was fascinating to watch. Having a beard helped, as I could blend in with all the others furiously stroking theirs.

The crazy experimentalism/fucking about continued with a brief Leafcutter John solo set, in which his main instruments appeared to be a metal bowl from the kitchen and a guitar played with chopsticks, all fed into a laptop running MSP. By looping the sounds he made and running them through a host of granulizers, pitch shifters, delays and such, he built up a wall of noise, butin comparison to the cacophony of the earlier piece, this was more reflective, placid, even pastoral in places. The inventiveness in his creation of sounds led to a slightly mad scientist feel, and yet for his final track he gave a surprisingly powerful bluesy vocal over some gorgeous shifting drones - it was something like Jeff Buckley's 'You and I', only sung by the bloke from Kings of Leon. Despite that description, it was actually very good.

I then popped up to get a drink, and sat down to what I presumed was the between acts dj - Ed from Plaid. At some point, possibly before I even sat down, it turned out this was the Plaid live show. Always a problem when your act is two blokes sat behind laptops: at what point does setting up finish and playing begin? Unless you've got some Westwood-style intro dubplate of various shit rappers proclaiming your genius, it's difficult to tell. Then again, I don't suppose there's an electronica equivalent to Eminem. Hearing "Er, 'ello, i'm Richard D. James, but i'm not playing, it's those two blokes there, that's Plaid. Err, right, that do?" wouldn't have the same gravitas.

It was clear the set had been tailored to the event - there was a distinct absence of beats, and even for an outfit as willfully dismissive of 4/4 as Plaid, the choices were fairly abstract. Yet the familiar choices of sounds - bells, 'cellos, violins and all manner of natural and unnatural noises - were both incredibly detailed and craftily manipulated. These were not 128kb/s mp3 samples nicked off soulseek, every single noise you heard was at once lush and deep, crystalline in their clarity. It was an audio equivalent of seeing something on a VR headset - despite the minimal PA and some slightly off acoustics, you could easily suspend your disbelief that this was all coming from laptops. They were joined after a while by Will Dutta, and in this setting, given the freedom to play off another source, to fit in and around the existing melodies and suggestions, the live piano fused with the electronics - a perfect symbiosis between acoustic and electronic, physical and mathematical. All of which inspired one bloke to get up and start dancing in what can only be referred to as a Tai Chi fashion. I'd love to think it was because he was inspired by the congress he was witnessing, but I fear he reckoned he was getting techno and got trashed beforehand.

Still, a lovely evening, another gold star for Cafe Oto, and any night where I can get the bus back afterwards is a good one. And barely a month till I see Plaid again. I wonder if they'll play any techno next time.

- Mal

An inconvenient truth

For you to succeed, others have to fail.

[CF-LIVE] Richard Devine & Puzzleweasel @ Corsica

The Centrifuge had our first night at Corsica tonight (Declaration - I'm part of the CF collective. Do not expect an unbiased review) with a live UK show from Richard Devine ahead of his appearance for us at Manchester's FutureSonic festival. I wondered how many IDM fans were willing to come to South London on a Thursday night. The answer - a good 100 or so. We even sold some CDs, all the more amazing considering all our releases are available to download free from the website (Subtle enough plug for you?)

The night started off with a back-to-back set from CF's Missaw and Schemeboy from Adverse Camber, a great combination of glitchy soundscapes, hard-hitting percussion and a variety of soundscapes playing nicely to an almost totally empty room. What can you expect, it was 9.30. That said, both guys sounded great, and by the time Dolphin came on at 10, enough punters had wandered in to make it feel like a going concern.

Now, Dolphin has been known for a while for his Gabba/Breakcore vibe, complete balls out aggression, but was down on the roster as playing an "electronica" set. I was unsure as to what to expect, but he hadn't even reached the end of the first song before my jaw was floorbound. While there was a huge range of tempo and atmosphere over the course of his hour, it was all tied together with huge swathes of digital stomps and screeches. In terms of texture, the act it most brought to mind was Ital-tek - a range of different noises combining to make hard hitting synthetic drums and pads - but while Ital-tek can sometimes be a little monotonous rhythmically, Dolphin's tunes barely settled. Despite being almost overwhelmed in edits, he never lost the groove, and by the time he shifted up a notch to more familiar gabba-esque speeds, the rapidly growing crowd were starting to shift as well.

Then Richard Devine came on. And blew my tiny little mind.

I'd already tried to charge Richard and Puzzleweasel for entry on the door before someone pointed out who they were (not at all embarrassing, honest), so I can't claim to have been massively familiar with his work, although I knew to expect excessive digital manipulation and an almost total lack of recognisable melody. What I wasn't expecting was how HUGE it would sound, nor how propulsive the (admittedly abstract) beats would be. Running two laptops with Ableton, Traktor, and a host of other hardware and controllers - including a nifty little Pioneer scratchamathingummy - Devine conjured up some of the most ungodly noises i've ever encountered. And i've seen Papa Roach. The fact that whilst he did so, his head banged back and forth and sideways like some demented epileptic only enamoured him to me more.

We'd put Richard on at 11, so that people who came to see him could make the last tube home if they wished. Sadly, the vast majority did just that, meaning they missed most of Puzzelweasel's set. A shame, because while perhaps a little less wilfully esoteric, it was just as frantic and just as much of an incentive to get on the dancefloor - though by that point, the days exertions were taking me down a notch. When I heard that Dean Neutek had cancelled his set due to technical issues, the lure of a cab home was just too great.

So, the summary? Richard Devine - Brilliant. Dolphin - phenomenal. Thursday nights...meh.

www.thecentrifuge.co.uk
http://www.myspace.com/dolphinski
http://www.richard-devine.com
http://www.myspace.com/puzzleweasel

Possibly the best way to waste £130M of tax-payers money, apart from meeting MP 'expenses'

The Cambridgeshire Guided Busway; claimed to be "a reliable, fast and frequent service, a genuine public transport alternative to driving in to Cambridge on the busy A14". Having traveled by bus from St Ives to Cambridge every working day since 13th April, I am somewhat disapointed to find out that it will actually take longer to get into Cambridge from St Ives (approx 33 minutes http://www.cambridgeshire.gov.uk/NR/rdonlyres/E8A447E2-C4E8-4A94-9B21-EC305F1F8B25/0/GuidedBuswayFactSheet.pdf) compared to the already existing 55 service (pretty much always takes 30 minutes).

For those of you who have not heard of the Busway, someone thought it would be a terrific idea to rip out pre-existing train tracks, install giant slabs on concrete and run buses backwards and fowards for 15 miles. Apparently the line of thought was that this would take more cars off the road rather than a regular, reliable, clean train service.

Raise your glasses to progress(!).

Lju

Diane Warren - Big surprise...

A brief interview with Diane Warren in today's Guardian. Sadly short, i'd have really liked to have heard more about her writing process and how she feels about her own songs, but there are a few telling sentences. Notably:

"It's like when I wrote for Aerosmith [on their No 1 single I Don't Want to Miss a Thing], 'I could stay awake just to hear you breathing ... '" She makes a disgusted face. "If someone was listening to me breathing all night, I'd throw them out the window. Preferably a high-rise. Why would I want someone to listen to me breathe?""

The general impression is that she doesn't write out of any need to create or to express herself - it's a skill she has developed, she's good at it, it earns her money and that's about it as far as a personal connection with her material - and that's fine. I certainly wouldn't dream of criticising her for it, even though it's not how I, now most musicians I know, work.

However, the people who love her songs, and there are many. How many lovelorn teens have become smitten with the above line? Yet the woman who wrote it doesn't feel any connection with that emotion herself. Is it possible that her songs, and the songs of those like her, are instilling emotions and attitudes in people which would otherwise not exist? Is she portraying an image of love people grow to desire, without realising that it may not even be possible?

So many questions, so little text. I wonder if there was much cut, if so it's a shame, because despite my dislike of her songs I find her a fascinating person.

That said, i'm now listening to Glassjaw in an attempt to hear something from the heart. God help me.

Tim Exile - Listening Tree (Warp/Planet Mu co-release)

The long awaited Tim Exile lp is finally out, a joint release between Warp and Planet Mu. When possibly the two biggest labels in experimental electronic music join together to put something out, you know the combined hype machine will be out in full force. Let's be clear - I can see this landing in the playlists of every shoreditch twat. But does that necessarily mean it's shite?

A declared interest - I'm a bit of an Exile fanboy. I first came across him through his collaboration with John B "Broken Language", and soon after his first full-length on Mu - 2005's Pro Agonist - was a masterpiece of glitchy breakcore flavours, not only taking the Drum and Bass structure to the extremities (note "The Forever Endeavour and it's complete refusal to drop in any meaningful way) but playing with conventions of melody and beat structure to create truly unique forms. His live shows were, and still are, a masterpiece of live looping and fx, although to get as naked as he used to.

So releasing a vocal album, with a full lyrics sheet, is quite a departure. IDM is full of voices, but very few vocals. It's as if something as direct as a lyric would only serve to detract from the complexities of the music. I must admit to finding the performances of the new album material a somewhat mixed bag. The experimental nature was still there, and there were some great melodies, but it was hard to follow in places, especially when the PA was less than ideal. Add to that Tim's intesting vocal style (he was previously a chorister, and has kept the style, with no vibrato and strong held notes) and it was a lot to take in. It seemed that only a full listen to proper studio recordings was going to be enough judge the success of the work.

Opener "Don't Think We're One" starts with a delayed, percussive, rhodes-esque synth sound. The tone could be from one of his early jazzy releases on Moving Shadow, but the shifting nature of rhythm and the refusal to fit in a standard 4 bar pattern makes it hard to pin down, until a deep bass fills out the sound and a snapping, pulsing beat brings in the lyrics. Immediately one can hear the familiar blend of reversed hits, glitches, tape stops and other intricacies that mark the piece as an Exile composition. The lyric - an appeal to a partner not to place any hope in a relationship - combined with the synths and very British sounding vocals gives it a vague Depeche Mode feel, although the Basildon Boys were never quite so angular. Track two, lead single "Family Galaxy" continues to pervert rhythms, starting off with a steady triplet beat before gradually morphing into a stomper - Hard 4/4 kicks with a shuffling triplet over the top. An almost impenetrable middle section eventually gives way to an epic outro, pitched up vocals and signature changes all over the place.

Each track has examples of his previous styles - "Fortress" and "Bad Dust" both feature the deconstructed and corrupted vocal samples he's been using since "Merlin" and earlier [the latter having a Dilla-esque unquantised shuffle in 7/8. If you listen carefully, you can hear muso geeks in the background wanking themselves into a frenzy over the very thought.], while the two lyric-free tracks "There's Nothing Left of Me but Her and This" and "When Every Day's a Number" are, respectively, an eDit style glitch-house number and a Prog Drill'n'Bass workout much like "Forever Endeavour" which builds into a beat P. Yet there are enough new styles to see Tim is experimenting with more than just vocals. Album close "I Saw The Weak Hand Fall" is closer to DNTel in terms of melody, while "Pay Tomorrow",alternating bouncey techno-pop with dirty bass swells and choral roars, and a prescient lyric on the financial crisis, could easily be a cover of Sparks, or even Squeeze. There's even a pitched up, filtered backing vocal that sounds like the kids from "Another Brick In The Wall pt2", although I don't recall the Floyd ever rhyming "Food" with "Dude".

Overall, Tim seems to do a great job of combining recognisable vocals, front-centre in the mix, with his usual glitched up noises and poppy, if irregular, song structure. There seems to have been quite a promo push for this, as you can imagine with the combined might of Warp and Mu behind it. It's an undoubtedly strong album, and while i'd heard most of the songs live, i'm still finding new things after the 5th or 6th listen. While most of the tracks are probably still too bizarre for daytime radio play, anyone who can sit through an entire Bjork album should be able to get something from it.

There was a brief mention in a recent interview of Tim doing a cover of Jamie Lidell's "When I Come Back Around", and although it either wasn't finished or hasn't surfaced yet, the combination makes sense. If "Listening Tree" bring to mind any other act, it's Lidell's early work and his Christian Vogel collaboration Super_Collider. It also seems, after his recent Motown shift, that Lidell is returning to solo performance, presumably meaning more electronics. Seeing as they're both on Warp, surely someone has to arrange a collab/jam/tour/release between them?

Mal

Fortress
Family Galaxy

Nepotism

So to start, here's a little short film by photographer Laura Ward. The fact she has used a clip of my music to soundtrack it in no way results in its inclusion here.



- Mal

...It begins.....

"Music is essentially useless. As is life." - George Santayana

So, welcome. Essentially Useless is a blog about Music and, if we feel inclined, Life. Hence the quote. Hence the title.

We're two old college friends living in London and Cambridge, we've written places before but tend to have too wide a taste to limit ourselves to one publication. So here's a place for uninhibited splurging.

We'll do our own introductory posts at some point, but if you've just discovered us and are reading back through the articles chronologically, you've now reached the end. Congratulations. Have a cookie.